The Gellboar, Part 3

Part 3

The alley behind the restaurant wasn’t quite as narrow as the hallway, but it was much darker and it reeked of garbage. Before they left the building, Dan looked carefully for any sign of the Gellboar. Seeing none, he led his unwanted companion along a narrow path between open dumpsters and other half-seen obstacles.

The sirens were close enough to make his ears throb as they turned from the alley onto a larger street. To their right, a loose crowd of club patrons and employees stood on the sidewalk in front of The Cauldron.

“Hang on.”

Christine jogged down to talk to the manager. Faintly, Dan heard her making excuses for leaving early. The manager, in return, promised there would be a better crowd on Friday.

Impatient, he put his back to them and walked the other way. As the drone of heavy engines drew closer, the sirens’ wail abruptly died out, but he could still see the flash of emergency lights as they walked off down the street.

The night air smelled stale and damp, as it often did at this time of year. Fog from the harbor mixed with fumes from industry to make a kind of ceiling over the city. The reflected glow of street lamps turned it a chalky white. You never saw the stars in Chantain.

“You have a car?” Christine abruptly asked.

“Are you kidding?” Dan snorted. He couldn’t afford fuel and parking, let alone car payments.

“Right. Sorry. Well, this is my rental.” With a jingle of keys, she gestured to a plain, dark sedan. “We’re done for tonight. I’ll give you a lift.”

She didn’t really ask, just as the Gellboar hadn’t, and there was no reason for Dan to trust her. But the door was open, and Christine stared at him impatiently. Well, it would be a long wait for the next bus. He got in on the passenger side, keeping his knees together demurely, just as a lady would do.

The doors shut firmly, but the car didn’t move. Instead, Christine asked, “So what’s your excuse?”

“My what?” Dan bit out.

He felt a slight tingle, as if the faintest breeze tickled the back of his neck. She was probing him. Instinctively he hardened his psais against the intrusion. “Cut it out.”

“Huh.” She shrugged, then challenged, “Come on, tell the truth. What’s so important that you had to go to these lengths?”

“I did tell the truth,” he insisted.

“Oh, yeah. Your sick daughter,” she whined in a sing-song voice. Before he could protest, she went on, “But why cast spells in the first place? I’d think the death penalty would be a deterrent.”

Years ago, his mother spoke almost the exact words. Time had not provided Dan with a better answer.

“I don’t know.”

In the dark cab, he saw the gleam as she rolled her eyes. “Try again, pal.”

Through gritted teeth, he went on. “It’s just, it’s something inside me that’s always been there. I tried to hold it in, but it wouldn’t go away. It had to come out.”

Christine said nothing. Dan swallowed, trying to hold in his anger. He hated this, being forced to explain himself to a virtual stranger and trying to win her sympathies so he could just be left alone.

“Do you think this is something I would choose?” he pressed bitterly. “Believe me, I tried to find another way. I took my pills. I played basketball and pretended to like it. But the pain never went away, because my psais never went away. I couldn’t be happy until I ignored what people think and trusted what’s inside me.”

“And your folks just let you do this?” she asked with dry doubt.

“Not exactly.”

Dan’s home province, Ettloes, was so conservative that it was practically Medieval. Lacking athletic talent, he had been drawn to a life of the mind, to reading, and most of all to sorcery. Dan wanted magic from the moment he first heard the word. He devoured any story with enchantment in it, ran to the television if there was a spell in the news. It had been a painful blow when his father told him, straight out, a boy would never be allowed to work magic. Eventually he ran away, finding his own path to what he must have.

Still Christine did not speak. He could sense her waiting for more. The silence annoyed him, as if he could feel her judging. He threw the question back in her face: “What about you? Why are you a sorceress?”

She shrugged at the question. “I guess it’s just a talent I have. It’s fun to use it. Besides, I live on a farm in the ass-end of Ishe. It’s nice to get out and about sometimes.”

Dan stared out the windshield, trying to subdue the most poisonous envy he had ever felt. Just because she was a woman, she was encouraged to develop her talents, while he was punished for doing the very same thing.

“Fun,” he grunted. “Don’t I wish.”

Irritation overcame him, and he laid his hand on the door handle. “Are you going to drive, or should I just start walking?”

His companion gave him a sarcastic look, but she turned the key. “Which way?”

Dan hesitated, not sure he wanted her to know where he lived. A silly impulse, when he’d already told her so much.

“Go south on the Holy Road until you get to the Brambles.”

She nodded curtly. “Okay, I think I know where that is.”

At last they pulled away from the curb. The Cauldron was near the highway, so they soon rolled up a ramp and onto the Holy Road. As the car sped on, the city unfolded before them. Skyscrapers made lighted patterns against the pale night. Proudest of these was the High Temple of the Mother God, a domed vision of limestone and gold. Glittering lights reflected on the harbor’s glossy dark waters in broad streaks, like the stars he could not see above them.

Chantain was a big city now, but once it had been a magnificent metropolis, capital of a great nation where magic achieved whatever machinery did not. But the Sorcerer-Kings had reached too far, into realms beyond their own, and that provoked the alien residents. The Spellwar brought economic depression and biological destruction. After the final battle the Earth lay maimed, twisted together with sections of the alien realms. This, the Holy Mothers said, was the evil of male hands. In the aftermath, they decreed men’s banishment from the halls of power.

The alien creatures who remained were not so easily dealt with. Most of them weren’t evil, merely soldiers following orders. Now they existed as second-hand people, tolerated in enclaves where the monitors constantly watched them.

What Dan couldn’t understand was the Gellboar’s interest in him. It hadn’t threatened him until he delayed signing. Signing what?

He drew the crackling parchment from his purse and squinted at the runes. It was dark in the car, and passing street lamps didn’t give enough light to make anything out. Frustrated, he sat back, letting the sheet rest on his knees.

“What is it, anyway?”Christine’s voice, bland and businesslike, startled him into answering truthfully.

“I don’t know. He wanted me to sign it, but I can’t tell what it says.”

“So read it.” Her tone left no doubt what kind of reading she meant.

He’d have to cast a translation spell. Warily, he asked, “You don’t mind?”

“Huh!” She gave a bark of laughter. “Not everyone follows the Holy Mother like a whipped puppy, you know. We do things our own way in Ishe.”

Somehow, it hadn’t occurred to him that there could be a world outside Chantain, where theology was not so dominant. Or rather, he knew, but his daughter and his disguises kept him too busy to think beyond the moment.

Christine went on, “It never made sense to me, anyway. That men can’t do magic, I mean. I always thought you could, you just weren’t allowed to.” She sounded pleased with herself for being correct. “It doesn’t bother me, so stop looking at me like I might pull a gun on you.”

Dan retorted, “That’s funny. You weren’t acting like it didn’t bother you.”

“You just surprised me, that’s all.” Her voice was neutral again. “So do your spell.”

That was almost a challenge, but for the first time in his life, Dan didn’t want to call on his magic. Not with her watching. Even now, she might still doubt. Once she saw him cast, there would be no more question.

On the other hand, the Gellboar had said ‘sign’ and tried to force his obedience. Maybe he’d better find out why.

To be continued…

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